


To Sin As Cain

by sweetcarolanne



Category: The Borgias
Genre: Breathplay, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Historical, Implied Incest, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Murder, RPF, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rough Sex, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 05:56:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcarolanne/pseuds/sweetcarolanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So loyal is the assassin Micheletto to his master, Cesare Borgia, that there is no sin he will not commit for him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Sin As Cain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bold_seer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bold_seer/gifts).



> Dear recipient, I wasn't able to fit in everything you asked for (such as Machiavelli) but I hope what I came up with was something like what you wanted. 
> 
> This story combines elements of the first TV series of The Borgias with historical fact (such as Micheletto's real name being Miguel de Corella, his being the illegitimate son of a nobleman and his being a religious man), rumour and speculation, and complete and utter fiction (Micheletto's lover and his brother). Parts of it may well be Jossed by the second series, which hasn't come to my country as yet.

It was almost as though Don Miguel de Corella could hear the thoughts of those who stole covert glances at him, though they foolishly believed he could not sense their unease masked with a veneer of disdain. Years of paying attention to the movements and words of others, seeking out their vulnerabilities and waiting for the right moment to strike, had made him so attuned to what his targets and those surrounding them must be thinking, that a less rational man than Miguel may have come to see his own powers as originating from the realms of the mysterious and mystical. But Miguel knew what his skills truly were – a combination of natural ability, careful study and hard work. God was great and powerful, and He had dominion over all things, but these unique talents that Miguel possessed were very much of his own patient crafting, and as they frequently touched on elements of the dark and sinful, Miguel would often pray that God would understand, and refrain from condemning him as one who invoked demonic presences with his works. These skills he had so carefully developed were a warrior’s arts, after all – poisons, the garrotte, the subtle knife and more taking pride of place in his arsenal alongside the grandeur of the sword. These skills were the only ones he had that could help him earn his own way in life. For although this young Spaniard was of noble blood, son of the Count of Corella, he could never legitimately claim his father’s wealth and lands. 

And not only were the circumstances of his birth standing in the way of Miguel’s living a life free from hardship without resorting to his own efforts, but the very expertise that had made him a force to be reckoned with had turned many who had once loved him firmly against him, making him an outcast in the place he had once called his home. So now his search for a fortune of his own had ultimately brought him to Italy, and into the very heart of the Vatican.

Yes, Miguel knew what many whispered about him and mistakenly thought they kept secret amongst themselves. He, an assassin, had become so swiftly loyal to his master! Why? And why had he chosen to serve Cesare Borgia, bastard son of the Pope? There were greater and more powerful men who would have gladly purchased the services of one who could kill as ruthlessly and efficiently as Miguel. But none of these men had the fire of ambition, the fierce grit of inner strength and fortitude, that burned in the eyes of the young churchman, that showed through the semblance of piety compelled by his sacred vows. Those other lords with their more impressive titles and their temporal authority, their aristocratic lineage that stretched back centuries, did not possesss the force of determination that was evident in every part of Cesare Borgia – the desire to become a leader of men, to conquer and rule instead of merely seeking a life of luxury and indolence. It was this ambition that fascinated Miguel, and made him decide from the start that if he must serve a master, then let this master be a worthy one. Cold, selfish and ruthless by necessity, but strong and steadfast, with a nobler purpose in mind behind the pursuit of personal glory. Cesare was the type of man who could bring order forth from the chaos and corruption that was Italy, and the sheer vigour of his personality captivated Miguel from the very first. Few men had ever affected the wary, vigilant and sometimes cynical assassin in such a way, but Cesare fairly shone with a potential for greatness that could not be ignored by a man with the intelligence of Miguel.

He proved himself to his new lord with both words and deeds, killing at his command, showing himself willing to suffer pain and degradation in order to display his loyalty to Cesare. Slowly but inevitably, his master came to trust him as much as he could trust any who was not his beloved sister Lucrezia. Micheletto, as Miguel had now become known, was perhaps the closest confidant that Cesare had. Listening avidly as Cesare shared his thoughts about power, about glory and his craving to rule. And throughout the thread of these conversations, Micheletto came to discover the deep connection that he and his lord had in common. A desire to punish the world for not being as they wished it to be.

“Too often, the vainglorious, the foolish and unworthy are rewarded in this world!” Cesare would often say forcefully, his eyes dark with barely suppressed rage. “Men who are weak, who have not the talent or the mastery to make a mark upon history… and yet they enjoy favour and privilege that they have not earned through their own efforts. Why not take from them by force or stealth what they have no right to possess? By any means necessary, let the strongest and the best rise to take power. And I know that I have more than strength enough.” His lips would then twist slowly into a cruel and sensual smile. “And you, my sweet assassin, shall be the deadliest weapon I possess, to wield at will upon the fools and weaklings who stand in my way.” Sometimes Cesare would lay his hand upon Micheletto’s shoulder, or even lightly and idly run a finger through his hair, as if lost in thought and an unspoken appreciation of more than Micheletto’s talents as a killer.

Hearing these words, Micheletto would be struck time and again not merely by their power and resonance, but by the brilliance, charisma and stunning good looks of Cesare himself. The Pope’s son was an astonishingly beautiful man, considered by many to be the handsomest of his day, and it was whispered that men as well as women were stirred by him, by his intelligence, charm and dominance, and especially by his tall and lithely muscled form. And Micheletto, though he resisted these stirrings fiercely at first, was no exception.

Micheletto knew that love was something apart from lust, although sometimes they intertwined; love was pure and stemmed from the realm of the angels. Lust was an appetite to be sated, the more swiftly the better. Condemned by the church, yet an inescapable part of what it was to be human. And marriage was something else altogether – a contract to be made for political gains, to acquire wealth, to produce heirs and to forge alliances. It had very little to do with love or lust at the best of times. 

Love, in its purest sense, was what radiated between Cesare and his sister the Lady Lucrezia. Micheletto saw it in the way they glanced at each other, the light caresses of hand on face, and realised it through the tenderness of their murmured words. Although Cesare cared not for his vows of celibacy and his virility was well known, Lucrezia was the one woman he truly adored, no matter which nobleman the Borgia ambitions would see her wed to. And love, although he strove to think of it as mere respect at first, and later reverence, was what Micheletto had come to feel for Cesare.

Always a pragmatic man, Micheletto had taken steps to ensure his own lust was satisfied easily and discreetly; among Micheletto’s small staff of servants there was a mute boy named Angelo, slender and graceful, his skin as pale and his hair as golden as Lucrezia Borgia’s own. The sin of lying with another man, in the eyes of Micheletto, was counterbalanced by the need to avoid the complications of getting some girl with child. He had no wish to beget bastards, and at this stage of his life, marriage would be an encumbrance and not a pathway forward. And was not his very profession built upon the foundation of the most heinous sin of all, that of murderous Cain? God was merciful, however, and was always waiting to receive the begging of His children for forgiveness, whatever the transgression might be.

And besides, the boy was truly exquisite, eagerly offering his naked back for the lash, his tears glistening as they fell to the floor, his lean young body trembling with the agony that he could not express with cries. So willing, too, was Angelo to feel the grip of Micheletto’s strong, skilled hands around his throat, yielding as much to the pressure as to the thrusts of Micheletto inside him. It was not merely the sense of power that aroused Micheletto as he whipped or choked the boy, but the image of Cesare, always present in the loyal assassin’s mind. 

Micheletto could not repress a shiver of terror and desire at the memory of the time he had asked Cesare to whip him mercilessly, tearing the skin of his back and drawing blood – a necessary ploy, yet a source of clandestine delight for Micheletto. He still proudly bore the scars… As he flogged young Angelo, he imagined himself bound and submitting to his master’s hand once again. And as he seductively tightened his hands upon the boy’s slender neck, releasing his hold just before the point of danger could be reached, his lust increased as he wondered what it might be like to have Cesare standing there above him, watching, his eyes fixed with a chilling glare as he gave the order for Micheletto to kill the boy while taking him. For although Micheletto regarded Angelo with the affection he might have felt for a beloved pet, he would sacrifice his bed-mate in a heartbeat should the one to whom he had given the right to command both his body and soul ask that of him.

To Cesare, he would give anything, including himself. If love was angelic, why should it not be bestowed from on high to Miguel de Corella, the one who was named for the warrior prince of archangels? He kept recalling those times when he had sensed something more than approval in the light touches of Cesare upon his person, and had seen a look in Cesare’s eyes or a certain smile that hinted at the possibility of something deeper than what they already had.

Yet it would be dangerous beyond understanding to become the lover of Cesare – such a connection would be as hazardous to Cesare’s ambitions as it would have been if Cesare had consummated his love for Lucrezia in the flesh. Not only was there the spectre of scandal and ruin to consider, but Cesare needed Micheletto to be his right hand, his most clandestine and ready weapon, showing his devotion by his never faltering willingness to kill on demand. He did not need Micheletto to be a pet or paramour, serving hs master only between the sheets in the manner of the boy Angelo’s service to Micheletto.

For soon the riskiest mission of all might arise to confront them both. An act that was distasteful, but like all acts of war, an absolute necessity. Micheletto was willing to take even the lives of women and children when need be, so he would not shirk this task if and when the time was right.

As a man of God, Cesare could not fulfil the ambition that burned inside him. To become the ruler he was destined to be, he had to be a soldier, a leader of armies, freed from the priestly vows that now constrained him. And in his way stood the man his Holy Father had given greater favour to, the weak and undeserving one, his younger brother Juan Borgia, Duke of Gandia.

Micheletto too had once had a brother, like himself his father’s bastard son. And like the brother of Cesare, this one had been fond of luxury and grandeur, with a cruel streak that was flawed by weakness. For this younger son, also named Juan, the Count of Corella had shown a markedly stronger preference and conferred far more affection upon him than he ever gave to Miguel, and from his earliest years Miguel had burned with anger at this unjust turn of events.

When his brother had been found dead, no trace of Miguel’s involvement could ever be proved, but the Count of Corella’s remaining illegitimate son knew that on pain of death he could never return to his former home. And so here he was now, the trusted assassin, the man who served a worthier, better master than the Count of Corella, a man who could some day be more powerful than even the Pope himself.

Micheletto, ever loyal and obedient, patiently awaited the day when that ultimate order, the order that would lead to death and liberation, suffering and greatness, might come.


End file.
